About Today
by gostlcards
Summary: The Charmings are so close to falling apart, falling away, at any given moment. Rating for mild language.


AN: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS. blame lollapalooza, the movie _Warrior_ and most of the all, the band who sings this wonderfully sad song, "The National"

This is supposed to take place sometime during "Selfless, Brave and True", and is AU, according to what has happened. Basically a different take/handle on the whole Mary Margaret, Cora heart fallout; Snow's back to kind of being reclusive.

* * *

_today/you were far away_

When he was a boy, he had an idea of how his life would play out. As he helped his father with the crop day in and out, he would imagine a wife with pretty dark hair, like his mother's, and a smile that would make him smile back, one that would fill his chest with warmth and laughter, soft hands that would fit in his just right. And one day, children of his own, which would tend to this farm as his father before him had done, as he has done.

Finding out he had a long lost twin, and taking his place had never been a plan, but David had always been nothing if not adaptable. Meeting Snow White, becoming a prince, was not even entertained.

And yet it had happened. And every time his life took a turn he had not fathomed before, the ending had still all been laid out in his mind all the same; whether it played out in a hovel or a great castle with turrets, it involved that smiling warmth, and little mouths with little hands and little laughs to fill his days.

What has been delivered has been anything but.

They've had the same disagreement as they've had a few nights over, about the beans, and about home. About how he longs to return, about how he misses the way the sun sets over the mountains outside their quarters. About how they can continue their lives, and start to rebuild after this terrible experience. But as the words leave his lips, a hopeful smile on his face, Mary just looks at him the way that he feels like she's been looking at him since he woke up from that fucking coma, as if he's betrayed her greatest confidence.

She lays there next to him during the nights in her pale pink pajamas and her mussed hair, tear tracks on her cheeks, eyes rimmed red from non-stop crying. She is exhausted from the grief, bereft from what she believes to be her fate, no matter how often he clutches her arms and tells her it will be alright, that they will be okay, that they will survive. There is a light that has been extinguished within her, something he has never seen go out from her, except when she was under the influence of a potion from the Imp himself.

But that's not the case here. Life has beaten her down; their child was stolen from them, they have been separated, and emotionally tortured and in a moment of weakness, having succumbed to her most basest instinct to _protect_, she has lost a part of herself.

He doesn't know how to fix this. He stands sometimes, staring in the mirror of their bathroom, mostly when no one is home; he opens his hands, stretching his fingers, staring at them; hands that used to dig, and shear, and plant, and build; hands that used to follow the curves of a body beloved, caressing every inch, whispers on their lips laced with love, but not so much as of late.

He needs to be able to fix this, but there is no absolutes for a depressed wife and he thinks, if things can only be like they _were_; if I can only take us back...

But even when he proposes that, she looks at him as if he is lost.

"I don't know what to do. Tell me what to _**do**_." He whispers to her, to himself, to anyone that will listen and help. She shakes her head, the corners of her eyes sagging downward and she leaves the living room, leaves his hands empty and open in front of him. She closes the door behind her quietly, returning to the covers which have become her cave, her refuge, her only solace in this space.

She is gone to a place he doesn't know how to follow, and he worries, for a moment, that this is maybe the moment where he cannot find her, as he has so vowed to do in the past.

* * *

_hey are you awake/yeah i'm right here/can i ask you/about today_

She had thought that when she patched everything up with Henry, that this madness would end. That somehow, they could finally get on sure footing, that somehow the household would get better. But Mary Margaret is back in her room, curled under covers and sleeping the day away, hiding from the world. She has seen David moping around the home, has had the discussion with him about her mother, and Regina, and the heart.

She is afraid of how much it terrified her, as if her world was disintegrating around her as he explained that the heart had been removed. At first, she had felt some semblance of guilt for her harsh words, worried that they had played a part in this. She had wanted to spin away from her father and rush to Mary's side, but he had soon reassured her not to worry, that she was okay. But that she was still sad.

She's avoided the room since then, since early this morning when he had relayed the story to her over breakfast after Neal had picked up their son for the day. There is such a big part of her, she is surprised to find, that feels so betrayed, and she wonders if it's how her roommate had felt before the curse broke, as she tried to escape the town with Henry. Ever since it has broken, Snow has been so adamant, they are family, they go _together_. And here she was, trying to go somewhere that Emma could not follow. She is surprised at how much this hurts.

It takes David leaving in the dreary, late afternoon with a curt word about beans to draw her from her room. Mary's curtain is still slightly open, and so Emma quietly makes her way to the makeshift boundary, pushing through the side to come to stop at the foot of the bed, hand on the metal frame, waiting for acknowledgment from the prone shape. She almost leaves before the body moves, legs uncurling under the sheets.

"I went and saw Regina," Comes a whisper softly, so much so that at first, Emma's not sure she's heard it.

"David told me." She replies in the same sad tone, and without prompt or even an invite, she climbs into bed with her mother, lying across from her in a similar fetal position, hands tucked under her head as she rests her head on the pillow. Mary's eyes do not meet her; they remain half closed, lashes brushing the apples of her cheeks, downward faced.

"I thought it would be better that way."

Emma reaches out slowly, her fingers curling around the other woman's, and the contact is enough to pull her from her stasis. She is shaken to see tears on her daughter's lashes, and as she feel her nails scratch at the surface of her hands, Emma licks her lips, letting them part as she seems to contemplate her next few words.

"I thought we agreed where we went, we went together."

Her mother's response is a sharp intake of breath, and eyes that immediately fill with tears. "I know, I _know_, but it would've been the most sure way to keep you _safe_..."

"But you didn't even say anything to me!"

Emma is staring at her now, her expression longing for a better explanation. But Mary doesn't have one. And she can't absolutely promise it won't happen again.

"I'm sorry," Is all she can say. "David left."

"Yeah, something about beans." Emma's expression turns quizzical, aware of Mary's switch in subjects. Her mother's face seems to become a mask of indifference.

"He wants to go back to the Forest." She explains. "And I told him this is our home now. It seems we're at an impasse. He's not very happy with me, I'm afraid."

_I'm afraid that we're broken. I'm afraid we won't find our way back. I'm afraid that Regina will finally win, that she will take you, my happy ending._

_I'm afraid, I'm afraid, **I'm afraid**_

But Emma meant what she said in what seems like so long since she came to town. There are no fairy godmothers in this world, and there certainly are no easily attained happy endings. At least not as easy as they seemed to be in Magical realm.

"He wants to leave for good?" She whispers, and as Mary affirms it with a nod, Emma sighs deeply. "I thought he looked off. I'll go find him in a bit."

"In a bit?" Mary asks. Emma rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, you see...my mother just had this stupid, near death experience, and she's been a bit impulsive as of late. And I want to make sure I don't miss her."

She's being dry, and she's trying to inject some humor into the dark situation, but a few tears still manage to slip from her mother's eyes. She doesn't wipe them away. "I _am_ sorry."

Emma tightens her grip around the her mother's hand once more. "I _know_."

* * *

_how close am i/to losing you_

She finds him alone on the Toll Bridge. The levels on the banks are high for this time of year, and she wonders if the changes of the last couple of months have anything to do with that. His eyes are on the waters below, inky black and cold, swirling angrily in patterns downstream.

"Well, if it isn't Prince Charming."

He scoffs at her voice, shaking his head. He doesn't seem startled as she walks up behind him, and she realizes he had sensed her coming before her feet hit the pavement over the river. "I'm not Prince Charming. _He_ was able to fix things. _He_ was able to get his wife out of bed. _He_ was able to keep people _**safe**_." He cranes his head to the side, both eyebrows raised, exasperated. "I'm David Nolan, remember? Bumbling, hapless, useless David Nolan." He shakes his head.

"Oh, I get it." She joins him at his side, arms crossed on the bars as well, resting a foot on the lowest rail as she looked out over the water too. "So you're both having self-pity parties now?"

"I don't know who I am, if i'm not that guy." He says softly, arms resting on the metal guardrail as he leans on his forearms.

"You're still her husband."

"Am I?" He asks, voice sad, finally looking at her. "People change, because that's how life works, but what if two people don't change the same? What if there, we were perfect for each other but here, in this world, like this...we just don't work?"

A hollow feeling begins to grow in her stomach, and it feels as if it may continue until it swallows her whole and she falls forever. "That's why you want to go back so bad."

"It can be as if this never happened," He looks at her, expression imploring her to agree with him. "We can repair the castle, and replant crop. We can rule our subjects the way we would have all along, and we can have our family."

"Because you don't have that now." She says it evenly, and it's not a question, but a statement, a reiteration of what she understands him to be saying. It confuses him, because he does have that now and he doesn't understand where she's lost him, but she continues on, ignoring his furrowed brow. "You say you don't know who you are, if you're not that guy, but...I mean, I don't understand what makes you, not that guy. I mean, I know you have a grandson now. Who really kind of adores you, because you've done the sword fighting, doting, protection, _thing_."

He purses his lips, cheeks heating up. He rubs his fingers together, one hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling his arms closer to his body as she continues.

"It did happen, David. This all...has happened. And I guess...I'm sorry that the fallout is so...unbearable for you to deal with. That you want to leave it behind, and just...pretend it didn't."

Pretend she didn't happen. Storybrooke, the curse, all of it. Because this world is her world, this is who she is. And as it clicks in his head what he's basically been saying is that he wants a clean slate. That he doesn't want this world, that he doesn't want _her_; he feels like a horrible piece of garbage.

"Oh, Emma," He breathes, horrified at himself, but she doesn't hear him. She's not even looking at him, but seems to be staring somewhere off past him, eyes focused away from him, working through this in her own mind. She's telling him who he is, piece by piece.

"The only reason I haven't just taken Henry, and run away from this town is because I have Mary, and Ruby, and Madame Superior to walk me through this...fairytale, magic stuff. And you. I cannot deal with this reality either, without you guys. Cause that's who you are too. You're supposed to be the guy who helps me with this." Her voice is wavering now, and if he were closer to her, he would see her wide eyes growing teary. "So I can understand you wanting to leave. But Henry and I, we won't be going with you. So, if it's really that difficult, being this new guy, you need to decide which of those two guys you want to be."

"Emma, I didn't mean it like that." He pleads with her, and he's kicking himself, because he really has thought, we can go back, we can be happy, we can pretend. But he understands now that that's not true. Because what's he's been needing, is to accept his own rhetoric, from right after the curse broke, that this place and this realm is a part of who they are now, and no amount of pretending is going to undo that. This place is who _Emma_ is. And he is Emma's father.

He gently grabs her arm and turns her toward him, his free hand cupping under her chin so that he gently tips her face up to look at him. "I wouldn't leave you again. Not for anything. Forgive me. I know which guy I want to be."

"You both keep trying to leave." She whispers, her tone distant, and he searches her gaze for a way to reassure her. "All of my life, I wanted to find you, and be angry, and _I_ wanted to be the one who left for once, but it's still you two who are trying to leave."

And suddenly, he's terrified at the precarious situation, and what her words could mean. He pulls her in tight for a hug that she doesn't reciprocate, at least not right away, and he shakes his head against her, her soft blond hair that smells of vanilla tickling his nose.. "No," He insists, tightening his grip. "_Never_, Emma. We wouldn't do that again."

"She would. If she thought it would keep us safe, she _would_."

"I won't let her. I won't let any of us. I told you earlier, we're a _family_, we do this _together_. I'm sorry I've lost sight of it."

She hiccups at that, and he pulls back to wipe a tear from her cheek as he recognizes the sound as a symptom of tears. "I love you, Emma. I promise, not another word of going back to the forest." He re-emphasizes it with a squeeze of her biceps. "I'll talk to your mother. We'll work this out."

She just nods, suddenly sheepish at her tears, looking down. He purses his lips. "What do you say we go home? Get a hot meal, and we start to work this out?"

She nods again, and he throws his arm around her shoulder, heading off of the path. He will sleep well tonight, he knows, because he is exhausted. He has felt so lost, for so long, scrambling to fix the situation, trying to find an answer to make this transition somehow easier.

_Stupid guy_, he thinks to himself, casting a glance at his daughter, who's focused on the trail in front of them, but still hasn't shrugged him off yet. She's in this, too, for the long haul.

The answers been right in front of him all along.


End file.
